Equal Reactions
by tpchicken
Summary: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Don & Charlie have a bad morning. Oneshot!


A/N: Just a little oneshot that rattled around in my brain until I let it out, mostly because I like to keep Charlie in danger... ;)

12321

He was angry. He had failed. Every time he had tried, he had failed. Five cities, all of them failures. But this last time, this last time wasn't his fault. It was the math professor's fault. The math professor had written the book that didn't work. So now he had returned to the first failure, to L.A. He returned to finish fixing the first failure, but he also returned to punish the man who had caused his last failure. Then it would be okay, he knew he wouldn't fail again.

12321

Don stared at the red light. His eyes were unfocused; his brain whirled. He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. They had spent all night working on the re-heated cold case. A serial murder cold case. It was a frustration that the case had only warmed back up because the last witness had been murdered. The break on the case that they had worked on all night never came. Now, Don needed a break. Just 30 min. or something to shower and refocus. Finally, he maneuvered his suburban into his brother's driveway, careful not to block his dad's or Amita's cars.

He stepped out of his car and into the warm morning sunlight. Here, in Charlie's neighborhood, it was calm and peaceful. It was almost hard to think that in other places, murders or other evil doings were going on. Don knew better. Shaking his head, he headed into the craftsman.

"Dad? Charlie?"

"In the kitchen, Donnie!" His father stepped out into the dining room. "I made pancakes, you hungry?

"Nah, well, maybe just one, or two. I actually just came over for a breather and maybe to shower."

"You look beat, tough case?"

Just at that moment, a pajama clad Charlie came barreling down the stairs. "Hey Dad! Oh, pancakes, hmm..."

"Charlie, pancakes are just like waffles and you eat those," Alan chastised.

"I only eat those for Amita."

"And she's here" stated Don.

"Yes, she'll be down in a moment, then we'll be headed to Cal Sci to grab those numbers for you, Don."

"Actually, she's already down," she gave Charlie a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to run ahead if that's okay. I meet you there?"

"Sure," Charlie agreed. After a quick kiss goodbye, she exited, with Alan following shortly after to make his tee time. He was planning on golfing 36 holes today. Charlie sat down to choke down a pancake and check his email on his laptop. They ate in silence for a few moments, Don staring at the sports section of the newspaper, not really reading.

"Chuck, I'm going to run upstairs and take a quick shower before I head back to the FBI." Don said, placing his wallet, side arm, watch and keys on a nearby end table.

"Fine, just don't use all the hot water, I still need some."

"I make no promises!" Don called down the stairs.

"And don't call me Chuck!" Charlie called back up them.

12321

Amita stood at the door of her car, making a last minute check that she had everything. Sure it was Saturday morning, but she still had papers to grade and lessons to plan, plus she needed to check to make sure the computers were still working on the numbers before Charlie got to the office. Alan had already said goodbye and pulled out of the driveway. She sat down in the drivers seat and checked her mirrors once more. That's when she noticed the man.

He was standing in front of the house, waiting while his dog sniffed some trees. There was something eerily familiar about the man. It wasn't like he was doing anything out of the ordinary, yet there was something that caused Amita to shiver and instinctively lock her car doors. She pulled her car onto the road and drove the short distance to Cal Sci.

Once there, she made her way up to Charlie's office. She liked Charlie's office. It was warm and familiar. She set her stuff down on "her" desk, which was really just a table that Charlie kept free for her use. Then she made her way to the computer, checked on its status, and glimpsed through the case files that David & Colby had brought over. It was there she found the picture that made her blood run cold. The dog walker, the man in front of Charlie's house, he was the suspect in the case they were working on, and he was in front of Charlie's house!

She snatched up her phone and called the house. No answer. Then she tried both Charlie & Don's cell phones. Still no answer. In a panic, she called David. By the time he answered, she was in tears.

12321

Charlie could hear the water from the shower running even after he had finished his breakfast & responded to his email. He quickly calculated how much longer it would be before the house ran out of hot water and wondered if maybe he should skip it and just get to Cal Sci. Then he thought Amita probably wouldn't appreciate a stinky Charlie, so he sat down in the living room to read some papers while he waited his turn.

He had just gotten comfortable when the doorbell rang. Grumbling, he padded over to the door. When he opened it, a large man was standing, angled slightly to the door. His eyes shifted from Charlie to the street and back.

"You're Charles Eppes?" The man rasped.

"That's me..." Charlie stopped mid sentence as the man raised the large knife he had been hiding behind his back.

"Its all your fault," he said and he passed through the threshold of the house.

12321

Sometimes a shower is just what Don needed. This was one of those times. In the shower, you were warm and the world around you was silent. He let his mind run away with itself as he cleaned the grime of the last 24 hours off him. It wasn't until the water started running cold that he realized he had probably been in the shower too long. He had to get back to work. David & Colby were waiting for him back at the office.

Reluctantly, he turned the water off and stepped onto the fuzzy bath mat. It was only then that he could hear the racket that Charlie was making down stairs. What was that kid doing anyways? Then he heard a noise that almost stopped his heart. It was unmistakably the shot of a gun. He quickly glanced to his pile of dirty clothes. He had left his gun downstairs with his wallet! What had Charlie done?

12321

The man had tried to grab a fist full of Charlie's shirt as he entered the house, but Charlie had dodged him. Now he was locked in a deadly game of keep away with his unknown assailant. He frantically threw things at the man and knocked furniture in the man's way, but the man simply laughed and came closer, ever closer.

They had gone through the hall (Charlie had even thrown the beloved green fluted bowl at the man), into the living room, around the corner. No matter what Charlie did, he couldn't stop the man and his knife. His brain felt like it was working in slow motion. Charlie tried to keep his rational thoughts. He could escape, he knew he could. He had survived bullets flying past his head, people trying to run him off the road, and most recently, come face to face with a gang leader that had personally threatened his life. He could do this, he just needed a weapon.

That's when he spotted it, it was in the dining room, just where Don had left it. He knew that Don was going to be pissed that Charlie had touched it, but he justified it because he wanted to be around for his brother to be mad at him. He picked up the gun, and backed himself into a corner of the dining room. This was his last stand. Maybe the man with the knife would back off when he saw Charlie with the gun.

But the man just laughed, "You're going to, what? Shoot me? Ha ha, you?"

He was getting closer & closer, Charlie wasn't going to have a choice. He aimed and squeezed. Bang! Bam! The man with the knife crumpled to the floor. Charlie was frozen in shock. He had shot someone; he had killed someone!

A noise from the stairs startled him, and he instinctively swung the gun in that direction. He was shaking from what he had done, and he had frightened himself. Tears blinded him, but he was still able to make out Don's shape running down the stairs in his father's bathrobe. He could hear Don's voice, but couldn't make his brain understand his brother's words. Off in the distance, he could hear sirens. He let the gun fall from his hands, and slowly slid down the wall.

12321

Don had thrown on his dad's robe that he had found in the bathroom and armed himself with his baseball bat from his room. He was either going to use it to beat his kid brother senseless for touching his things, or he was going to use it to kill the SOB that was shooting at his brother. He never expected to see what he actually saw. A man with the knife, bleeding on the floor, and in the corner, Charlie, tears streaming down his face, he gun pointed where the man last stood.

"Oh, Charlie!"

Charlie whipped the gun towards Don, and Don instinctively dropped the bat and raised his hands. "Its okay, Buddy, its me, just calm down."

Don watched as his little brother dropped the gun and slid down the wall, curling himself into a little ball. He wanted to run to Charlie and let him know it was okay, but first he had to assess the situation. He walked slowly towards the man Charlie had shot. Oh, God, his brother had shot someone, with Don's own gun! He kicked the knife away from the man and felt for a pulse. It was still there, but faint. He should call for an ambulance, but frankly, Don really didn't give a damn if that man lived.

What really mattered now was Charlie. He slowly made his way over to his brother, picking up the gun on the way and moving it out of his brother's site. Charlie had his head between his legs, and Don could hear the gentle sobs.

"Hey, Buddy, Charlie, its okay. You're okay now."

Charlie lifted his tear stained face. "Don?"

"Yeah, Buddy?"

"I'm sorry I touched your gun. I'm sorry, I..." Charlie started gulping down big sobs.

Don brought his brother into a big hug, "Forget about that Charlie, I'm just glad your not hurt."

There was a knock at the door and the shout of "FBI!" from behind it. It was than that Don noticed the sirens that had been going for the last few minutes. He had been so focused on Charlie and the situation at hand.

"Come in, its okay!" Don yelled towards the door. David & Colby were the first two through the door. The stopped short of the dining room.

"Ho-ly Smokes!" said Colby. Then the FBI got to work.

12321

It was several hours later, and Charlie and Amita were huddled on the couch in the garage. Their heads were together and they were muttering to each other. At this point most of it was declarations of love, but earlier Amita had told Charlie how she recognized the man in front of the house after she got to Cal Sci and had called David. Charlie had slowly and reluctantly told Amita what had happened on his end.

Don sat on the end of the pool table and waited and watched. Normally he would be in charge at a crime scene, but had opted to stay and watch Charlie instead. At this point the FBI would almost be done cleaning up inside the house, and he was waiting for David & Colby to report. Plus, he was pissed at himself. Pissed that he had brought Charlie into another case that almost got his brother killed. As he watched Charlie & Amita's conversation turn into number theory & equations, he knew he was going to have to stop relying on Charlie on these cases. It was just too dangerous.

It took David & Colby another half an hour before they showed up at the garage. Don raised his head and eyebrows at his team.

David pulled out a picture, "Mitchell Harris, 37. Was a suspect the first go around, but disappeared. We checked around and found his apartment."

"Yeah, and apparently Mitchell was a 'Dear Diary' kind of guy," Colby added. "We found half a dozen journals and other books at his apartment. Including," Colby pointed at Charlie, "The Attraction Equation by Dr. Charles Edward Eppes."

"What?" asked Don. Charlie & Amita stood up and walked over to the 3 FBI agents.

"We haven't had a chance to read through all the journal entries," David started. "But it seems that this guy left L.A. after the first murders and moved to Denver hoping to reinvent himself and start over. But in Denver he killed his girlfriend and her ex, so he moved on to Dallas, then Atlanta, then Boston, and finally back to L.A. Each time falling back to his old habits, letting his temper get the best of him and killing someone."

"So he comes back, kills one of the witnesses to the first killings, then comes after Charlie," Don turned to his little brother, hoping to soften the blow. "Look Charlie, the more I think about it, the more I can't let you work with us. I just think..."

Don could see the shock, then anger in his brother's face and he knew that he was up for a fight, but it was Colby that interjected.

"Look Don, you gotta know. In Boston, Harris picked up Charlie's book and thought if he used it, he could reinvent himself and start over. But his old habits crept back up. He killed 3 people in Boston and his journals are full of rantings, blaming Charlie & his book. I think Harris didn't even know Charlie was working with us."

"Don," Charlie whispered. Then he gathered his strength. "Don, I don't work for the FBI because you need be. I think I also work for the FBI because I need you. Imagine if I never started working regularly with you 5 years ago. The Charlie from back then wouldn't be able to cope with what just happen. The Charlie from back then wouldn't have kept his wits about him, his mind would've retreated to numbers and he'd be dead."

The room was silent except for the breaths of the 5 in the room, and Charlie mustered his courage and continued.

"I know I've seen a lot of scary things working with you guys. Things you didn't want me to see, but those experiences have made me a better person. Having those experiences and taking the FBI 2 day course kept me alive today. If Colby is right and this guy came after me because of the book and not because I consult with you, then I'm alive _because_ I consult with you. Because today I wasn't scared to defend myself against a mad man. Actually I was mostly worried because I had touched your gun."

"Charlie," Don started, but Charlie interrupted.

"Don, look, I don't even remember firing the gun. I might of killed a man today..."

"But you didn't," David stopped him. "He's going to pull through."

"Then he'll go to trial, and they'll probably put a needle in his arm," added Colby.

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse," chimed in Amita.

Charlie responded, "Either way, I don't remember firing the gun. I do remember my brother being there for me. I see my friends and family are around me now and I know that I'm okay. I'm better today then I was back then, back when mom died. I'm better because of you, Don. I want to keep this close relationship we have. Please don't push me away."

Don looked into the deep eyes of his younger brother and realized he was right, again. He knew that Charlie was speaking the truth, and deep down inside he didn't want to lose the relationship he had with Charlie either, and that included more than just work. They had a brotherly bond that their mother and father would be proud of.

"Okay Charlie, you win, you're right," then, with a twinkle in his eye he added, "but if you ever touch my gun again, you're dead meat!"

"Fair enough," Charlie laughed. It was a good noise, and the others joined in.

Just then Alan came into the garage, "Why is the house taped off? Is everything okay?"

"Its okay Pop, we're fine," Charlie said winding his fingers with Amita's.

"Yeah," chimed in Don. "How 'bout we go to lunch and we'll give you the abbreviated version?"

"Do I not want the unedited version?" Alan asked.

"Dunno, how do you feel when I say the words 'Charlie' and 'gun'" David asked.

"Edited version it is," Alan sighed. "Come on, we'll go to Luigi's, I think I'm going to need a glass of wine with this story."

Alan turned around walked out of the garage, followed by David, Colby & Amita. Don and Charlie gave each other a knowing smile. "So, you're paying right?"

"What, catching a wanted criminal doesn't earn me some sort of reward?"

Don grabbed Charlie around the neck and gave him a brotherly noogie. "Maybe it does..."


End file.
